


You're Lucky I Like You

by dratij



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-14 20:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dratij/pseuds/dratij
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unrelated, completely fluffy pezberry drabbles from the Santana-Lopez drabble meme. 1). Pinterest 2). Coffee 3). Baby Books</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble 1: Santana's really starting to hate Pinterest

It’s been a long day so Santana hesitates when she puts the key in the lock and listens for the telltale sound of a sewing machine clipping along inside the apartment. 

Rachel’s latest show’s been over for a month which apparently means she’s got free time to “diversify her homemaker skill set.” Rachel’s words, not hers. Santana calls it doing crafty shit because if Rachel were really intent on diversifying she would learn how to make them fucking awesome dinners instead of resorting to takeout half the time.

Whatever. Santana tries not to complain because she now owns an adorable crocheted hat and scarf set that gets her all kinds of compliments. 

And there are few things Santana loves in life more than looking awesome and bragging on her girlfriend in one fell swoop.

Santana leans in close to the door and to her relief, it’s actually startlingly quiet on the opposite side as far as she can tell.

Which makes sense. It’s the first day this week that Rachel hasn’t called Santana to have her make a run to the little fabric craft supply boutique that isn’t far from her office.

The things she does for her girl. Santana shakes her head to herself as she enters their apartment.

“Don’t come in the room! Don’t look! Don’t come in!” Rachel shouts frantically before Santana even has a chance to drop her keys in the bowl beside the front door. 

Of course all the shouting only serves to draw Santana’s attention, so her head automatically snaps up to look at Rachel. Their table is cluttered with as much fabric and bizarre cutting tools as Santana’s seen yet.

She’s really starting to hate pinterest. 

Rachel’s eyes widen comically when she sees that Santana is staring, and she vaults over two chair to place herself in front of Santana and quickly cover her eyes with both hands.

“I told you not to come in.” Even with her eyes covered Santana can see the pout all over Rachel’s face.

“What did you want me to do, babe? You’ve seen our apartment right? This whole space is our kitchen, tv room, and dinning room. I don’t know where you expect me to go. The hallway outside?”

“I’m making you a surprise. I don’t want it spoiled,” Rachel’s steadfastly refusing to remove her hands so Santana leans in blind and ends up kissing Rachel somewhere near her temple.

Rachel giggles and it’s enough for her to pull slightly away. “You can’t look over there,” she reiterates sternly.

Santana rolls her eyes earning her an immediate swat to her shoulder. “I’m not going to look. I’ll just put my things down in the bedroom and read until you do whatever you need to do so that I can live in my own apartment.”

“No!” Rachel grips her arms tightly before she can turn away. “You can’t go in there either. It’s something for the bedroom, and I don’t want you getting any hints.”

“Something for the bedroom, huh?” Santana smirks, and it’s Rachel’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Nothing like that,” Rachel says. “You’re incorrigible. You know that?”

“I do. And you love it,” Santana says.

“Yes. For some illogical reason I do.”

“So you love me against all reason? I think I should be offended,” Santana twists Rachel’s words knowing full well what reaction she’ll get.

“I said no such thing,” Rachel huffs in indignation. It’s adorable. “Just cover your eyes so I can get you situated with the tv while I clean up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Santana intones when Rachel pulls her right hand up to her face and uses her left to lead her to the couch.”

“Besides. My love for you is completely logical,” Rachel says and Santana can tell by the tone and dramatic pause that Rachel’s pleased with the comeback that’s about to come.

“Because I’m the shit,” Santana can’t resist.

“No,” Rachel’s uncharacteristically unfazed by the language. “Because you’re fucking hot.” 

Santana groans, suddenly pushed on the couch and kissed fiercely. Rachel catches Santana’s bottom lip between her teeth before pulling away.

It’s over way too quickly because Santana doesn’t get the chance to put her hands in Rachel’s silky soft hair. Plus Rachel’s looking way too smug.

“You sit here and watch tv,” Rachel says. “Thai food is on it’s way, and if you find a baseball game you can try teaching me all the stuff that’s confusing me to no end.”

“Can I have beer?” Santana calls over her shoulder, careful not to turn and look at anything.

“Already getting you one,” Rachel appears seconds later with an already open IPA. “The table’s still going to be occupied by my stuff, if that’s ok with you.”

“Sure,” Santana takes a sip of beer but tosses the knitted koozie aside because she has to draw the line somewhere. Rachel can drink her girly beers covered with multicolor yarn. “It’s not like we ever eat at the table anyway.”

“Maybe we should start though,” Rachel says, fingers scratching against Santana’s scalp while she flips through the stations searching for a game.

“Why? So we can feel like better adults. No thank you,” Santana says. “I like breakfast together on couch when we share our blanket even though you always stick your little cold feet under me.”

She doesn’t mean for it to sound sappy. She practically ends it with an insult. But Rachel doesn’t see it that way if her smile is any indication.

“Get out of here,” Santana shoos her away despite the look warming her insides. “Go hide whatever it is I’m not allowed to see, so your cute little ass can get back here and watch the Reds win a game for once.”

//

“So no shouting today,” Santana observes when she gets home the next day. “I assume that means my surprise is done.”

“Maybe,” Rachel says with exaggerated coyness. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“You do remember you told me it’s in the bedroom. All I have to do is tear it apart till I find it if you don’t give it to me.”

“Don’t,” Rachel pleads. “I want you to find it unexpectedly. Trust me. It’ll be great that way.”

“It better be.” Santana says.

Leave it to Rachel to have some grand gift giving scenario planned out in her head that Santana has to live up to. Good things she likes the pressure.

When Santana’s about to get into bed hours later, she’s a little mad that she hasn’t found the present yet. 

No quilt on the bed, no weird toothbrush holder in the bathroom, and no pair of socks in her pajama drawer (protection against Rachel’s cold feet). Their decorative pillows are the same, and she can see their normal white pillowcases peeking out from behind.

Literally nothing has changed. Santana’s starting to consider that there might be no surprise at all, and it’s all some prank that was cooked up with Puck that ends with short-sheeting the bed.

Santana grabs the two pillows with shams and throws them to the ground more forcefully than usual.

“You aren’t going to get some big reveal if I can never find the damn thing,” Santana’s about to glare at Rachel when she catches sight of green and red thread at the corners of their pillows, and her face automatically softens when she reads what it says.

She traces the green embroidered lines and lingers on the heart before the words love you.

Rachel finally speaks, and it’s the small voice she reserves for the quiet intimate moments between them. “Since you were the one to say it first. That’s why mine’s love you too.”

It had surprised them both when Santana blurted the words in the middle of a fight, beating Rachel to the punch. Although it’s kinda appropriate considering Santana’s the one that fell first, and then had to drag both herself and Rachel into the relationship to begin with.

“They’re perfect,” Santana all but whispers. She can’t stop running her finger back and forth where the two simple phases line up, connecting them in some tangible manner.

“Really?” Rachel asks, and it’s not her typical fishing for a compliment. 

“Yeah.” Santana leans across the bed to kiss her gently. “I really like it. And you’re right. It was better that I waited.”

“Can I get that in writing?” Rachel asks, crawling into bed and scooting close to Santana whose eyes are still trained on the pillows.

“Don’t push it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble 2: Who knew she could love anything as much as coffee.

It’s a Tuesday morning and Santana should be putting in some extra hours at her internship, but instead she’s fighting the morning rush at one of her favorite coffee chains. She mentally reminds herself never to go to this particular shop before 10 am ever again.

The things she’s willing to do for Rachel.

If only she weren’t waiting behind seven customers who have the most complex coffee orders in all New York. There should be a separate line for people like her who just want the regular stuff, no frills or complications.

Santana considers herself a coffee purist so she’s really not one for the caramel macchiato, iced white mocha bullshit. Rachel isn’t really either, which is one of the things they bonded over the first time Mike made them both come come to his standing coffee date with Sam.

While the boys ordered their wussy nonfat iced mocha (Sam) and vanilla bean frappuccino (Mike), Rachel ordered a French press of the Honduran blend with a little soy milk on the side.

The fact that Rachel had ordered good coffee made Santana feel a little less bad about checking out her legs while she stood behind her in line.

And then the rest - the two of them actually becoming friends and doing their coffee thing while the guys do theirs - is pretty much history. You can only consume something you love with someone you kinda tolerate for so long before some sort of positive feelings bleed over.

And ok, maybe Rachel’s mellowed since coming to New York and has learned how to have some fun. How can you not like a girl who sends sneaky photos of subway passengers who have made terrible fashion decisions?

So what if most of her days start with her and Rachel in their favorite coffee shop?

Only today Santana’s by herself because Rachel has a really big audition - callback actually.

She thought Rachel was going to hyperventilate on the phone talking about it the night before, so Santana ended up having to pull on pants for the quick trek over to Rachel and Blaine’s place. She gave the girl a glass of wine, tucked her in bed, and left explicit orders with Blaine to make sure she’s up and in the shower by 7:30.

Today’s plan was for them to meet up for drinks later that night to either celebrate or commiserate depending on how things went. But Rachel was so nervous last night, that Santana assumes a little extra support is in order.

And since coffee’s kinda their thing, Santana figures it’s as good a gesture as any for the pre-audition hype up she knows Rachel needs. It’s the first time it’s been down to her and one other actress since Rachel really committed to the audition scene.

When Santana makes it to the audition site, Rachel’s outside pacing back and forth, surprisingly steady on her couple inch heels. She looks good with her black jacket and wavy hair (obviously Blaine took his instructions seriously).

But it’s the adorable look on her face, a mix between determination and worry that only Rachel could pull off, that has Santana suppressing a laugh.

Dear God she kinda hates how much affection she feels for this girl.

Rachel’s head comes up just enough that she catches sight of Santana, and a grin involuntarily envelopes her face.

“I thought I wasn’t going to see you until later,” Rachel says.

“I figured you could use a little pick me up and the support,” Santana shrugs and hands over the coffee. It’s decaf, but she doesn’t tell Rachel that, because seriously, the girl looks like she’s about to shake right out of her skin from adrenaline alone. Last thing she needs is more caffeine.

“Thank you,” Rachel takes a long appreciative sip from the cup. Her worried expression clears momentarily for a soft smile to take its place.

“No problem,” Santana begins to follow when Rachel turns away only to have them both almost lose their coffee when Rachel does an abrupt 180.

Apparently the comfort coffee wasn’t good enough to stop the pacing, so Santana grabs Rachel by the wrist and yanks her over to a nearby bench.

And it’s honestly not an excuse to hold on to Rachel. It’s just that she’s learned that sometimes you have to physically force Rachel to stop when she gets into one of her crazy moods.

“I think she might be better than me. She’s definitely prettier,” Rachel admits softly once Santana sits them down.

“Stop that,” Santana says. “You’re better because she’s not you.”

Rachel doesn’t say anything, just twirls her coffee in her hands.

“And that whole believing in yourself shit, it’s like important to you or whatever. So quit this not good enough thing and remember you’re the best.”

She knows that if Sam or Mike were there they’d be insulting her encouragement strategy, but screw them. She doesn’t see either of them holding Rachel’s hand.

“Thanks. I don’t where my head is at today,” Rachel says. Santana can tell she’s still a little skeptical or nervous or whatever because her tone is a dead giveaway. God, what is it going to take for her to believe Santana?

So maybe she cups Rachel’s face all affectionately when she says, “You’re awesome ok?”

And it just feels right for Santana to lean in and press her lips to Rachel’s. It isn’t the first time they’ve done this (although it is the first time sober), so Rachel doesn’t pull away in surprise when Santana continues to draw out the kiss.

She can feel Rachel’s free hand clutching at her knee when Santana’s fingers move to thread through through her hair. And when Rachel parts her lips slightly to let Santana deepen the kiss, there’s this flip-flopping sensation in her stomach.

Rachel’s the one to break it off first, but she only moves her face a fraction away from Santana’s.

The moment feels a little heavier than it should so Santana returns with, “And if it wasn’t obvious, I think you’re smoking hot. No way that other girl is prettier.”

It seems to be what Rachel needs - the coffee, the kiss, the words - because her face is all lit up when she lets out a breathless, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Santana nods, knowing that Rachel understands it’s a confirmation of the things she has and hasn’t said since she arrived. “No one is better for this part than Rachel Berry.”

Rachel scoots a little closer, and they drink their coffee in companionable silence until it’s time for Rachel to go inside.

“One more kiss? For luck?” Rachel asks complete with a cheesy grin that shouldn’t make Santana want to accommodate her so much, but it totally does.

Sanatana leans in for a quicker, more chaste kiss this time, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less thrilling.

“You got this,” Santana tips her almost finished coffee cup in a pseudo-salute and feels as surge of self-satisfaction when Rachel nods confidently and then proceeds to strut inside.

And maybe soon, after Rachel gets her first big break, Santana will finally get hers with Rachel.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their little boy loves his books.

Ask anyone and they’ll tell you that Rachel and Santana have a really awesome baby. He’s always happy and is the cutest baby Santana’s ever seen. And that’s completely unbiased. 

Joel is born with a thick shock of black hair and a set of lungs that could rival his mother’s. Thankfully he uses his lung capacity sparingly so Rachel and Santana consider themselves lucky to have such an easygoing baby.

But one of things that Santana loves the most about her baby boy is how much he already loves books. More than fancy light-up toys, singing dogs, or that baby piano she got Rachel the week they found out she was pregnant, Joel wants to play with books.

Like at three months old he bounces excitedly in her lap and lets out this little squeal whenever she or Rachel get out one of his favorite books. The boy likes the classics - Goodnight Moon, Pat the Bunny, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, and Make Way for Ducklings (the black and white pictures are a nice contrast for his developing eyes or something).

But Joel also has two books that he particularly loves. One for Rachel and one for Santana seeing as he’s already an equal opportunist.

Rachel’s book is Guess How Much I Love You, and it’s perfect for her. Not only is the book totally sappy but Joel really gets into how Rachel theatrically announces she’ll love him “to the moon and back” complete with exaggerated hand gestures.

The only downside is that is that Santana can never get Joel to giggle quite as loud when she does the same, so she has to resign herself to it being Rachel’s book.

And well, Santana’s book is The Winnie the Pooh Collection, or Pooh Bear, or simply Pooh, depending on what she feels like calling it that night. Joel recognizes all the titles almost as much as he recognizes his own name (and the word no) at this point.

It all started one night when Santana was trying to rock him to sleep and Joel was having none of it. He also wasn’t having Santana getting up out of her the rocking chair and the only book within reach was Winnie the Pooh.

It had too many words, too many pages, and too many prime places for Joel to grab and scrunch the paper. But somehow it worked and eight randomly scattered pages later, Joel was finally sleeping peacefully against her, his little mouth open in a perfect o.

//

Rachel’s convinced Joel’s fascination with books is a sign that he’s going to be brilliant.

“I was reading that boys typically have less of an interest in reading and as a result often have diminished language skills. Joel already has a distinct advantage,” Rachel says.

“Over whom? His non-existent classmates? He’s not even eight months old,” Santana laughs.

“An advantage in life,” Rachel says pointedly. “And he’ll have classmates soon enough.”

“You’ve been researching pre-schools again haven’t you,” Santana says. 

It’s not that she’s putting off the discussion because she doesn’t want a good school for Joel. It’s just that he’s a still baby and she wants to enjoy that time before she’s worried about what schools consider arts enrichment or offer programs in case he has a learning disability.

“The waiting lists are longer than you think. I have brochures and a pros and cons list on the desk when you want to take a look,” Rachel says in a short tone signals Santana isn’t getting any until she’s at least read the research Rachel’s done.

A week later Santana’s sitting on a small blue chair while Joel plays on the floor and Rachel grills a wide-eyed pre-school’s assistant director who Santana thought was supposed to be interviewing them.

But she has to admit after looking at a couple places there is one school that’s definitely better than the rest, and she wants Joel there when he’s old enough. The next thing she knows she’s asking what she has to do to get her kid on the waiting list, a beaming Rachel sitting beside her.

She swings by their favorite coffee shop on their way home and gets Rachel a soy vanilla latte. Her wife knows it’s as close as she’ll get to an admission that Santana was wrong and she was right.

Santana has one of those bad days where she’s seriously overbooked and every little question people ask irritates her, which is a problem when you’re employed as a consultant. She has to come up with excuses two separate times to call Rachel just so she can hear her wife’s voice to calm her down.

After the subway trip from hell, she needs to be home. She just wants to kiss her wife senseless and then snuggle with her and their baby boy in bed all night long.

Rachel knows her well, because she presses the length of her body up against Santana’s and kisses her gently as soon as she’s across the threshold.

Santana sneaks a couple quick kisses after the first and sighs, “I needed that.”

“Sounds like you had a rough day. I’m glad you’re home,” Rachel says, and nuzzles into Santana’s chest.

“Me too. Where’s our boy?” Santana asks because usually Rachel holding him and waiting for her when she gets home.

“Come see,” Rachel face lights up as she tugs Santana towards the nursery.

Joel’s asleep in the middle of the floor curled up with his butt stuck up in the air and his face on a book like he fell asleep reading it.

It’s an adorable sight that melts her heart even more when she realizes what book it is, and an involuntary aww escapes.

“He missed his Momma. Nothing I did made him happy, until he pulled your book out. He settled down right away and then fell asleep on top of it. I didn’t have the heart to move him to the crib,” Rachel says.

“Did you get a picture?” Santana whispers because she’s afraid that if she speaks any louder she’ll break the perfect moment.

“Yes. Seven on the digital camera and four on my phone using two different instagram filters. Mike and Puck also have copies I sent them. So definitely recorded for posterity,” Rachel says.

Santana chuckles quietly, “How come you didn’t send me one?”

“Because he’s cuter in person,” Rachel shrugs.

“True,” Santana squeezes Rachel against herself again. “I love you.”

“Me too,” Rachel says. “Go ahead and pick him up. I know you’re resisting, and I can see him drooling on the pages.”

“He gets that from you,” Santana says as she scoops Joel up, and it earns her a quick swat to her shoulder.

Santana doesn’t put him in his crib like she should, but instead brings him to bed with her while she waits for Rachel. She was serious about getting snuggle time in with her family.

Rachel finds the two of them, Joel all curled up on Santana’s chest and cooing as he situates himself, and gives her this soft smile that only Santana gets to see.

“He really should be in his crib. I shouldn’t have left him on the floor for as long as I did. He’s going to be completely thrown off,” Rachel says, but Santana can tell she wants him in bed with them.

“We’ll be fine. It’s just this time,” Santana reassures. 

Whatever, he’s a good baby. A couple hours in their bed while they watch Real Housewives on the dvr isn’t going to be some huge sleep-training setback. 

“Just this once,” Rachel agrees. “Do you need anything? Food? A glass of water?”

“No. Once you get into bed I’ll have everything I need right here,” Santana says. 

It’s the kind of sentimental thing that Rachel would typically say, but she means it. And when Rachel scoots in under the sheets and drops a kiss to first her lips and then to Joel’s head, she figures she can be a little sentimental since she knows there’s no place she’d rather be.


End file.
